388. Broken Vessel

photo-1542507815265-3e0105099f95

I had no right to refuse you,

For I had no rights at all.

You locked me within your eyes,

And from then on I was all…

You could see.

You gazed at me with doting eyes,

While you bled your victims dry.

You didn’t plan to kill me too,

And I didn’t want to die…

Just like them.

You stared into my eyes so deep.

You invaded my brain.

I became your loving home,

And you drove me insane…

With your thoughts.

Pleasure and pain you intermix.

As you love, so do you cry.

You drown me in your tears and rage,

While I lie still and try…

To go home.

Yet there’s no home to go back to,

Nor any door you cannot access.

You and I, we share this home,

And trying to escape: a hopeless…

Endeavor.

You walk these halls eternally,

And you, my fate, have judged.

The walls are made of bitter tears,

And each bloody lash is smudged…

Into bars.

I have no right to hate you,

For I have no rights at all.

You stole far down into my soul,

And from then on you were all…

That I am.

The criminal and the victim.

The loved and the lost.

The guilty and the innocent.

The vessel which you tossed…

To the side…

…broken.

K. Aldaya, 3/10/17

Picture: By: Catalin Pop on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/DL09PT4RDwA

387. Lullaby of the Lost

Where do the dead go and who can follow?

Will you go to where they lie?

Will you search the darkest hollow,

To find the truth before we die?

Where do the lost go and who will find them?

Does anyone care they’re gone?

Who will pull-out each thorny rose stem,

Upon their heads when they are gone?

Where do our thoughts go and who will remember,

The sufferings of this mortal coil?

The fires of life shed each ember,

Of we who soon become it’s soil.

Where do the cursed go and who will love them,

When they’ve become all we fear?

Who will care to find and hold them?

Who will mourn or shed a tear?

Where do the dead go and who can follow?

Will you go to where they lie?

Will you search the darkest hollow,

To save the lost before they die?

K. Aldaya, 3/1/17

Picture: by: Branimir Jaredic; http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/1-branimir-jaredic.html?tab=artwork; http://www.magazineim.com/home/index.php/collaborators/branimir-jaredic/#7

386. Sandstorm

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Sands drift around…

Up in the air,

Then back to the ground.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

The wind is your friend…

Pushing you on,

But when does it end?

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Sand’s in my lungs.

It’s hard to breathe,

And you’ve just begun.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Grains full of rage.

Can we start over?

Write a new page?

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

I’ll suffocate!

Hours have passed,

And it’s getting late.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Words propagate.

We can’t start over;

It is too late.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Reach to the door…

Slam it behind you;

That’s what they’re for.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Left in your dust.

Please don’t come back,

I’m starting to rust.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Leave me alone.

My skin is cracking.

I’m turning to bone.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

Dusts float your way.

I’m lost in your words.

I’m fading away.

Sandstorm. Sandstorm.

You move away.

Yet now I am dust.

And dust drifts away.

K. Aldaya, 2/22/17

Picture: “Sandhouse Sienna Room” by Cary Wolinsky; http://www.carywolinskyphotographs.com/sandhouse-series#/sandhouse-blue-1-2-1/; https://limeduck.com/feast-for-the-eyes/

385. Forsaken Lullaby

The shadows take our dreams away,

And nightmares have come to stay.

If I die before I wake,

Tell God, my soul, to not forsake.

Will you come and find me here,

He’s coming fast. He’s coming near.

Tell him not to steal my skin,

Leaving only bones to live within.

Find me now and chase away,

The nightmares which have come to stay.

If you leave before I wake.

I know, my soul, God will forsake.

K. Aldaya, 2/18/17

Picture: “Waverly Hills” by Shelbi Nikol. secure.flickr.com/photos/shelbinik…7824597/sizes/l/; www.lovethesepics.com/2013/10/waverl…ls-in-america/

384. The Church

The wooden beams stretch upward and on,

Beckoning to heaven,

For God to replace what is gone,

In the hearts of the brethren.

The church pews creak and rattle bones,

Made from dead tree spirits,

As men sing in bitter undertones,

Of the sins on which each sits.

Through angelic stained glass windows,

The winds whip the prostrated dead,

As the sky casts shadows,

Upon each lowered head.

The singers pray to their God,

And the shadows fly away,

In fear of men who sing to God,

To give their sins away;

Then with the final chorused-end,

Heads rise and walk outside,

To the lake where they intend…

To drown their sins inside.

In the waters, dark and deep,

They seek to know God’s grace;

So they lie until they fall asleep,

And awake glimpsing a face.

Their reflections are only their own,

Then back to the church they go,

To walk along the pews and moan,

“There’s no God! There’s no God! We merely reap what we sow!”

K. Aldaya, 1/4/17